


The nap of the battle of Monmouth

by erinlightwoodbane



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Gay, M/M, can't imagine G.wash not tapping that ass tbh, dont read the tags I'm sleep deprived, historical accuracy can kiss my ass, i mean they're dead but like, they both deserve happiness I love fhem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 11:41:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7048234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erinlightwoodbane/pseuds/erinlightwoodbane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lafayette and Washington sleep together in the cold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The nap of the battle of Monmouth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Iwillgladlyjointhefight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwillgladlyjointhefight/gifts).



> Lafayette and Washington!!! My lovely new friend Iwillgladlyjointhefight suggested this and it's 1am and I haven't slept since 1am yesterday and I'm just really tired okay  
> Hope you enjoy!

It's dark by the time George Washington wanders upon his major general; stopping in his track at the sight of the Marquis de Lafayette curled up on his side, legs tucked up to his chest and his fair head resting against an outstretched arm.

It doesn't look all that comfortable, but for George, who'd been standing upright in his stuff uniform for the past four hours, it looks as close to heaven as he can possibly imagine at a time like this. Contrary to popular belief, the war does at time manage to get an edge on him, and, at stressful times such as these, it sneaks up on him; completely unaccounted for. 

But still he stands tall, and he draws his broad shoulders back with a slight sigh as he trudges forwards, frowning slightly at the harsh wind nipping at his face. Lafayette, from where he could see was dressed in only his jacket to provide warmth, but the fabric was cheap and George doubted whether it actually helped at all. The Marquis certainly looked freezing.

Still curled up on his side, as he walked closer, George could begin to make out the tell tale signs of an illness rising on the young boy- pale face and flushes cheeks were made all that more apparent by the cold weather. He looked younger, too, though he wasn't all that old to begin with- only nineteen and easily one of the youngest under his commands- but still one of the most brilliant.

There was of course one Alexander Hamilton but where his flame of passion was bright and constantly flickering, the young Lafayette's was assured and unwavering, the calm to Alexander's storm, George had observed in more than one occasion. The two were different in so many ways but they'd became remarkably close between the time they had first met and now. They were both orphans, young children at the time who were then completely alone, and then after they had both moved to America in search of war- something they had no trouble in finding. But where Alexander remained generally unsatisfied in each of his actions, Lafayette seemed totally at ease with his attractions, smiling at things where Hamilton would have predictably pitched a fit.

He thought absently of that as he hovered uncertainly at the side of the tree which Lafayette was lounging beneath, cautious but half desperate to be near the eccentric Frenchman again. He was certainly not as eccentric now, though that was certainly no surprise considering the boy was unconscious, and he slept soundly through the setting sun, soft looking lips parted slightly but otherwise completely motionless. His chest rose and fell with every breath he took, and as a particularly strong gust of wind swept past, he frowned and curled further in on himself.

Washington's heart leapt.

With doubt one of the furthest away in his mind, worry lingering close, he settled down next to the sleeping boy, struggling as he pulled his heavy cloak off. The cold hit him immediately and he shuddered at the thought of Lafayette being alone for so long in such conditions.

He lay down first, albeit hesitantly, but he could feel the shivers of the young Frenchman next to him and with newfound confidence he draped his own cloak over the sleeping boy's body.

George watched, perhaps a little awestruck, as Lafayette immediately wrapped the warm cloak around himself, tension uncoiling from his lithe frame as he buried his face in the side of the coat, rolling over so his open palm now brushed the side of George's arm. 

Almost as if he could sense him there, the Marquis's hand gripped around his wrist, fingers loose but the gesture unmistakable. His eyes opened slowly, silver stars sleepy as he blinked. If he was surprised he didn't show it, and Washington could only watch helplessly as the marquis pulled him closer to him, surprisingly strong for how short and slim he was. 

George was certainly no idiot, and he was therefore certainly not going to deny the chance of a night alone with the young marquis, there to protect him and no one else. He pushed himself down onto the cold grass but couldn't help but smile when Lafayette nestled into the side of his body, pulling the large cloak over the two of them as he tangled his legs through George's. 

His heart stopped briefly but then there was the only steady beating of a heart against his chest, Lafayette a warm, comforting weight on top him, wild curls brushing George's chin and he laughed quietly as the Marquis somehow managed to draw himself closer to George, rolling so he was practically lying on top of him. 

George closed his eyes. The war could wait- and as long as he had Lafayette he knew he'd be just fine.


End file.
